


Books of Ancient Magic and Where To Find Them

by Celemion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Agnes Nutter was Totally a Psychic, Aziraphale has no idea whats going on, BENTLEY BROS, Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), GO and SP are based in the same Universe, Gen, Good Omens ft. SP, I love banter, Mystery, Not the other way around, Skulduggery's Bentley, comedic, good omens - Freeform, i don't make the rules, no context needed, spoiler free
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celemion/pseuds/Celemion
Summary: Aziraphale just wants to spend his days in peace now that the apocalypse has been avoided. But when his shop apparently becomes the hiding place for a book capable of destroying the world and two strangers come looking for it, Aziraphale has no choice but to get involved.He has to protect his collection, after all, and the human race along with it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Books of Ancient Magic and Where To Find Them

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens fans: You don't need to know anything about SP, but I hope this might inspire you to look the series up!
> 
> SP fans: this is set sometime after Death Bringer, but before KotW.

Aziraphale sat in his favorite armchair with his favorite book and his favorite cup of tea, and relished the pure bliss of it all. These moments weren’t uncommon, of course, as Aziraphale made sure to put aside time daily for his favorite things, but even as often as he did so, he never grew bored of the quiet.

It was hot outside, and bright, as the summer sun beat down on the streets of London, and the shop doors were closed tight to any of the stuffy city air that threatened to breach his shop. Passersby and tourists walked past the darkened shop with barely a glance, and Aziraphale made no move to change this. It was how he liked it, after all. It was peaceful, and relaxing, and he was all alone in--

The little bell on the shop door chimed.

Aziraphale frowned. The shop was closed. That door was supposed to be locked.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he called without raising his gaze, “but we’re closed at the moment.”

No one answered.

Aziraphale lowered the book and glanced at the doorway leading into the shop proper. 

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” he called out again, and again, no one answered. 

Aziraphale sighed, closing the book gently and placing it on the small table beside him, and stood. He walked quickly, eyes scanning the walls and the shelves before landing on the individual. It was a girl, bent over slightly and hands clasped behind her back as she peered at the books before her, dark hair obscuring her face. She was dressed in all black, her coat zipped up despite the tepid summer air and Aziraphale could see the heavy ring made of a dark metal wrapped around one of her fingers. He could feel the energy it radiated, how it looped around her and through her. It was cold. 

She didn’t acknowledge him as he approached.

“Hello there,” he said. “I’m not sure if you could hear me, but I’m afraid we’re closed. If you would like to return tomorrow, I--”

“I heard you,” the girl said suddenly. She spoke with an Irish accent. “Both times, actually.”

Aziraphale blinked. “You did?”

“Yes.”

“Then may I ask why you didn’t respond?”

“Because,” the girl said as she straightened and looked at him, “I didn’t see a sign.”

With her hair out of the way, Aziraphale was struck by the dark eyes that were blinking back at him. She was pretty, this girl, and now that she was standing straight he realized that she was significantly taller than him.

“But I do have a sign,” Aziraphale said.

“And,” she continued, ignoring him completely, “the front door was unlocked. If you really were closed, I don’t think you’re doing the best job of making it clear.”

“But there is a sign,” Aziraphale insisted, “and the door _was_ locked.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It was. I’m sure of it. I locked it this morning.”

“Well, it isn’t now.”

Aziraphale felt the indignation rising and he stuffed it back down, covering it with a pleasant smile. “My apologies, then,” he said. “Feel free to take a look around.”

The girl didn’t respond, just nodded and went back to scanning the bookcase. Aziraphale stood there for a moment and when it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything, clasped his hands and took a small step forward.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for?” He asked. “Perhaps something I could help you find?”

“No,” she responded, “we’re just looking.”

He felt an eyebrow raise. “We?”

The girl looked at him again and he realized that this time, he was being studied. Her eyes traveled quickly down to the floor and then back again, resting on his face. He shifted uncomfortably. And then those eyes flickered over his shoulder.

“This is quite the impressive collection,” a voice said from behind him and Aziraphale whirled in surprise to see a man step around the corner, flipping through the yellowing pages of a book. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, automatically, and the man swept by, moving to the girl without raising his gaze. Aziraphale watched him as he did so. He was tall, this man, tall and dangerously thin. He was dressed in a sharp three piece suit of the deepest burgundy and a hat that dipped low over his brow like a 1920’s private eye. His shoes, polished to a gleam, flashed as he stopped, and Aziraphale could see the silver chain of a pocket watch strung into his waistcoat.

“China would be impressed,” the girl said to him. “What did you find?”

“I’m not sure,” the man said and turned another page. His hands were gloved and he had a nice voice, smooth, that seemed to glide through the air. His accent was Irish, too. “I got distracted and then heard you talking to someone, so I grabbed a random book and came over here. Who’s this?”

“The owner,” the girl said. “We were just talking.”

The book snapped shut and Aziraphale tensed at the sound as the man looked at him. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jaw and his startling grey eyes seemed much too unfocused and his pale skin seemed much too waxy as it broke out into a wide smile. He had nice teeth.

“Wonderful,” the man said brightly, “just who we needed to see.”

There was something off about the man as he stood there, something that made Aziraphael extremely uncomfortable, and it was something he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t like that. It was something peculiar. Something dangerous. There was something off about the girl, too, but that was a different offness the pair shared and something Aziraphale could identify.

“You’re sorcerers,” Aziraphale said and the girl's eyebrows raised in surprise. The man, for his part, didn’t betray any emotion as he looked at him. His head tilted.

“Yes,” the man said, finally, “we are. You must be a sorcerer, as well?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth but faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Yes,” he lied. “Yes, that’s exactly what I am.”

The man nodded. “Well then, that makes this all a lot easier. If you are a sorcerer, then you surely know who we are.”

Aziraphale closed his mouth and didn’t say anything.

“We are, after all,” the man continued, “quite well known. Famous, you might say. Notoriously so.”

“You might be notorious,” the girl said, “I’m just famous.”

They went silent and looked at him and Aziraphale realized they were waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “but I live a quiet life and I tend to not take part in much sorcerer… sorcery. I’m afraid I don’t recognize you.”

“That is fair,” said the man, “faces can be difficult. I can hardly keep track of my own.”

He chuckled at this and the girl rolled her eyes. Aziraphale didn’t get it but he smiled anyways.

“Names, on the other hand,” the tall man said, “tend to stick with you. Especially when they’re unique. Names like Valkyrie Cain, for example.”

The girl gave him a little wave. “That’s me.”

Realizing this was as close to an introduction as they were going to give, Aziraphale forced a smile onto his face. It was an odd name. “Lovely to meet you, my dear. I’m--”

“I know who you are,” the girl, Valkyrie, said. “You’re Mr. Fell.” 

Silence settled around them for a moment before the man clapped his hands together. “Marvelous. Now that the introductions are out of the way, we really must get back to why we came, if you don’t mind.”

“But they’re not out of the way,” Aziraphale said. “You didn’t give me yours.”

“I didn’t give you what?”

“Your name. You didn’t give me your name.”

The man tilted his head. “Of course I didn’t.”

“Are you going to?”

“No, I don’t think so. I quite like my name, and I don’t fancy giving it away to anyone.”

Aziraphale watched as Valkyrie closed her eyes.

“Skulduggery,” she said, “you promised.”

“I'm sorry?”

“You promised you wouldn’t be difficult.”

“I did? When?”

“When you called me this morning and I told you it was Alice’s first birthday tomorrow and I didn’t want to miss it. You promised that this wouldn’t take long and you also promised that you wouldn’t make things more difficult than they needed to be.”

“Oh,” the man said, “right. Sorry.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Your name is Skulduggery?”

They looked at him like they had forgotten he was there. The man paused a moment before answering. “It is.”

“That’s an interesting name.”

“I'm an interesting person.” 

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his voice even and friendly, “but what exactly are you doing here?”

He didn’t do a good job. The words, as soon as they left his mouth, were much more terse than he had wanted them to be. Valkyrie and the man named Skulduggery didn’t seem to notice.

“We’re here looking for a book and it’s very important that we find it,” Skulduggery said, setting down the tome he still held in most certainly not the place he had found it.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, gesturing slightly, “you’ve definitely come to the right place.”

“Ah, but this isn’t just any book. It was stolen from the Sanctuary archives and it’s quite rare. One of a kind, in fact.”

“The Sanctuary?”

“We work for them. We’re detectives. Good ones, too.”

Realizing he was supposed to know what a sanctuary was, Aziraphale nodded and clasped his hands before him. “Why are you here, then?”

It was Valkyrie who answered him. “The man who stole it was seen slipping in and out of this shop multiple times in the last week. We think he stashed it here until he felt it was safe to sell it.”

“So you’re here to retrieve this book,” Aziraphale asked, “and then leave.”

“God, no,” Skulduggery said, “that would be boring. We leave the boring things to boring people. I don’t like being bored. It irritates me.”

Valkyrie nodded. “It makes me want to hit things.”

“You always want to hit things,” Skulduggery said, looking at her.

She shrugged. “It makes me want to hit things harder.”

Aziraphale was getting a headache.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, “but I think I need to make a phone call.”

Skulduggery peered at him. “A phone call? Mr. Fell, are you calling someone to have us killed? Because if you are, I must tell you that we are not very good at dying.”

Aziraphale recoiled in shock at the accusation. “What? No! I--”

“Maybe he’s ordering a pizza,” Valkyrie said. “It _is_ dinner time.”

Skulduggery nodded. “That must be it. Is that what you're doing, Mr. Fell? Ordering a pizza?”

“No. I’m--”

Skulduggery waved a hand in the air and cut him off. “Never mind. I don’t really care. Go make your phone call, good sir. We’ll just be out here looking at books.”

Deeming the conversation over, Skulduggery turned on his heel and walked away. Valkyrie smiled at him and then turned back to the shelf, her eyes narrowing in concentration. Aziraphale realized he was standing there with his mouth slightly open gaping at where the two had just been looking at him and he snapped his jaw closed. He felt dizzy.

There were sorcerers here. In his shop. He hadn’t had to deal with them very often during his time on Earth-- they took their privacy and secrecy very seriously and he had been more than happy to just let them and their activities go unnoticed. But now there were two of them snooping around in his shop and they were sorcerers who, Aziraphale could tell, were clearly dangerous. There was the stench of death around the girl that emanated from the ring she wore, and it was obvious that she had seen her fair share of action. And the man. He was… something else entirely. Aziraphale couldn’t get anything from him, but he had glimpsed the straps of a shoulder holster under Skulduggery’s jacket as clear as day.

Turning away, Aziraphale forced himself to walk as casually as he could to the back. He considered, briefly, miracling them out of his shop, and perhaps wiping their memories in the process. But if they were here on business, he had no doubt that whoever sent them would send them again, and he didn’t think they would be as carefree the second time around.

The phone sat in the same place it always did and it took Aziraphale seconds to dial the number he now knew by heart. The tone beeped. Beeped again. And then the line was picked up.

“Hello,” Crowley said, in that signature drawl.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said quickly, keeping his voice down, “where are you?”

“At home. Why?”

“I need you to come to my shop, and I need you to do it quickly, please.”

“Angel,” Crowley said, “what’s going on?”

“There are sorcerers here,” Aziraphale whispered, dropping his voice lower. “Two of them. They’re here looking for a stolen book. I need your help getting them out.”

“Do you have their names?”

“One is a girl named Valkyrie Cain and the second is a man. She called him Skulduggery.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line.

“Skulduggery Pleasant?”

Aziraphale faltered for a moment. “I didn’t get a last name. How do you--”

“I’ll be there,” Crowley said, “don’t do anything stupid.”

“Of course, dear.”

“And don’t get shot.”

“How did you--”

The line went dead and Aziraphale sighed, setting the phone down and closing his eyes. Crowley would help, he knew. He was much better at confrontation than Aziraphale was and knowing that there was someone else in the shop other than himself would be a reassurance indeed.

And then there was the intriguing fact that Crowley clearly knew who the man was.

Steeling himself, Aziraphale stepped back out into the shop. Valkyrie had moved on from the shelf she had been examining and onto one by the window, crouching low to see the spines on the bottom. He couldn’t see Skulduggery. He stood there for a moment before settling into an armchair that allowed for the best view and attempting to pull up any information he remembered on sorcerers.

They were elusive, Aziraphale knew, and powerful. For thousands of years, they had been living beside the regular population, and for thousands of years, they had kept their existence secret. He knew they had their own government, which must have been the sanctuary Skulduggery had mentioned, and he remembered at one point, a few hundred years ago, there had been a war that had lasted a few hundred years itself. It was all very extensive and all very confusing and he didn’t even want to try remembering the rules of their magic.

Magic and how it worked and what purpose it served was something he had never been briefed on. Aziraphale didn’t understand it, and after years of avoiding the humans that could wield it, he didn’t think he wanted to. They, of course, knew even less than he did, which was a small comfort.

The shop door chimed and boots hit the wooden floor. Aziraphale saw Valkyrie’s head snap up at the noise and he rose quickly and strode over. Crowley stood in the entrance, dressed in black, his sunglasses in place, and he was in what seemed to be an intense staring match with Valkyrie, still crouched on the floor.

“Hello,” she said. “Who are you?”

“Crowley,” Crowley said.

Valkyrie nodded. “Cool. I like your boots.”

An eyebrow arched above Crowley’s glasses as Valkyrie went back to her task. He looked at Aziraphale.

“Found it,” Skulduggery called.

Aziraphale turned as Valkyrie stood and Skulduggery wandered out from behind one of the shelves. He had something in his hands that flashed as he examined it. He stopped suddenly, eyes resting on Crowley and his hands ceased their movement. It was quiet.

“Oh,” Skulduggery said, “hello. We’re closed.”

Crowley crossed his arms. “Are you? I don’t seem to remember this shop undergoing new management.”

“We’re helping. Mr. Fell here could tell you, but he won’t because I am. Leave.”

They looked at each other, Crowley with his arms crossed and Skulduggery with his expression blank, and the tension in the air was so thick Aziraphale fancied he could cut it with just a breath.

“Um,” Valkyrie said, “what’s going on?”

“Crowley is a friend,” Aziraphale said, stepping forward. “I called him in case he could be of assistance.”

Skulduggery looked at Aziraphale and he had to keep himself from squirming at the intensity. Those eyes were hard as they turned back to Crowley, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. And then it was like a switch had been thrown and Skulduggery was smiling again, his shoulders relaxed, the intensity disappearing into the air.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crowley,” he was saying. “Do I have to call you mister, or can I just call you Crowley? I think, just now, we’ve become friends, so I’m just going to call you Crowley.”

“Crowley is fine,” Crowley said, without uncrossing his arms, “and we’re not friends.”

Valkyrie stepped forward before the conversation could spiral. “You said you found something?”

“Ah,” Skulduggery said, returning his attention back to what was in his hands, “yes. I found the book.”

He held up something shiny that flashed in the light. It was a small rectangular box, slightly larger than his palm and made out of a dull metal etched with symbols Aziraphale couldn’t make out.

“That doesn’t look like a book,” Valkyrie said and Skulduggery nodded.

“It’s a transferment case. The book is inside.”

“What’s a transferment case?” Valkyrie asked, and Aziraphale was glad he wasn’t the only one who had no clue what was going on.

“It’s a type of transaction system. They come in pairs,” Skulduggery explained and held up a matching case. “The one that holds the goods will remain sealed until the proper payment is placed in the second case, at which point that one will be locked until opened by whoever owns the key. They were made for transactions that couldn’t happen in person.”

“So our guy left this here,” Valkyrie finished, “but he’s impatient and he keeps coming back to see if his payment has arrived.”

“Correct,” Skulduggery said. “And this makes finishing the job much easier.”

Aziraphale frowned. “How so? You have the book, don’t you? Aren’t you done here?”

“But this wasn’t just about finding the book. That, as I’ve said, would be boring. Finding the book was step one. Finding the man who stole it is step two, and arresting those who are coming to buy the book is step three.”

“You’re going to use the book as bait,” Crowley said, speaking up. Aziraphale blinked.

“As bait?” He asked, incredulousness rising in his voice. “In my shop?”

“What about Cretinous?” Valkyrie asked, ignoring Aziraphale.

“The English Sanctuary was in touch while we were looking,” Skulduggery responded. “Apparently, our thief has been staying at a hotel a few blocks away. I was planning on going over there and nabbing him while you stay here and watch the book.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said ‘absolutely not.’ You are not leaving me behind.”

“It’s only for a little while.”

“I am not a babysitter.”

Skulduggery sighed. “I need you here. The book is a priority. If anything, you have the most important job. Cretinous is an amateur, anyways, and barely worth the time of the infamous Valkyrie Cain.”

Valkyrie scowled. “Fine. But I’m not infamous. You’re infamous. I’m hip. I’m _cool_."

Skulduggery nodded. “Of course, dear.”

Crowley took a step forward. “I’m going with you.”

Aziraphale looked at him in surprise. Skulduggery and Valkyrie mirrored him.

“Why?” They asked at the same time, and Crowley shrugged. Skulduggery studied him for a moment.

“Fine,” he said finally, “so long as you agree to follow my every direction.”

He tossed the two cases to Valkyrie and turned, walking out the door. Crowley went to follow, looking back at Aziraphale.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, not even bothering to hide the surprise, “what are you doing?”

“It sounds exciting,” Crowley said, “and because I saw their car parked outside and I want to go for a ride.”

A frown formed on Valkyrie's face at the same speed it did on Aziraphale’s. “You want to go for a ride in the Bentley?”

Crowley’s teeth glimmered as he grinned and then the door closed and Aziraphale was left standing in silence with Valkyrie as the last chime died away.

“Oh dear,” was all he could think to say.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a lot of fun writing this as both series mesh really well with each other and I couldn't resist writing the Bentley Bros. Cool guys have cool cars, and that's all there is to it. Also, Val just needs a grandpa figure and Az is definitely her guy.
> 
> This will probably be three parts, but possibly one or two more than that, depending on where it takes me.


End file.
